


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Series: Twelve Days of DA Dwarves 2020 [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First time giving oral sex, Mistletoe, Modern Thedas, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Satinalia (Dragon Age), Sex Worker Positive, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Bea Cadash really meant to decorate for Satinalia, but when she goes to hang up the mistletoe she gets a little distracted explaining the meaning behind it to Cole.Cole is happy to be a distraction.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Cole (Dragon Age)
Series: Twelve Days of DA Dwarves 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036299
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the [Twelve Days of DA Dwarves](https://twelve-days-of-da-dwarves.tumblr.com/) Prompt List! Prompt #6: Mistletoe. I've also submitting this for the witches of [The Smut Coven](https://the-smut-coven.tumblr.com/) for their matching mistletoe prompt at 12 Days of Satinalia!

The slow roll of the music is smooth as the expensive whiskey Maria’s new boyfriend buys her. Jazz notes slink through the air, Bea can’t help humming along even as she rummages in the old boxes full of decorations. 

“I really can’t stay…” she sings just as the breathy, sultry female voice breathes the melody into existence. “I gotta go away…” 

Like magic, the bundle of tissue paper she’s searching for appears in her vision clasped in a pale, long-fingered hand. She beams up into Cole’s smiling face and plucks it from his grip, unwrapping it slowly. 

Her hips swing back and forth, lightly bumping Cole’s while the music plays. “I ought to say no, no, no sir…” 

She tosses a cheerful wink at Cole. “At least I’m gonna say that I tried.” 

His brow wrinkles. “But she doesn’t want to go home. She wants him to kiss her.” 

His honesty startles a bright laugh from her. She can’t help but rise on tiptoes to press a chaste kiss on his pointed chin. “Nothing gets past you.” 

“It’s a game. An old one she had to play because she couldn’t say yes.” 

Bea’s such a sap for him that all she can do is give into the surge of pride and affection squeezing her heart. Because there’s very few people that make her feel this way. 

And nobody as often as Cole.

She tugs her eyes away from his wide-eyed, blue gaze to rip the tissue paper from the bright green silk foliage and shiny plastic red berries. “If everyone was as good at nuance as you, sweetheart, the world would be a better place.” 

“Shades of grey and fuzzy, beautiful like fog clinging to streetlights and your eyes when dawn hit them,” he murmurs with the same fondness she feels. His fingers reach out to twist chocolate curls around them with all the shyness of their early days. 

She holds up the mistletoe in her hand and grins. “This is a game too, you know.” 

And Bea does love her games. She lifts the mistletoe up over her head and tips her chin up. “You know what this means?” 

“No?” 

He looks both adorably confused and intriguingly curious. Bea giggles and tosses her curls over her shoulder. “The rules are, you’ve got to kiss what’s under the mistletoe.” 

It doesn’t occur that her word choices left something to be desired until he swoops down and presses a kiss right on top of her head. He pulls back, pleased with himself. The laughter he inspires is free, uncomplicated, and so full of joy it _hurts_.

“Did I do it right?” he asks. 

Bea quickly nods. “Of course you did.” 

She drops the mistletoe to the level of her nose and tips her chin up further. _This_ time Cole presses a soft, insistent kiss to her lips. His cool fingers drift to her chin, thumb swiping over it, and she smiles beneath him. 

They break apart and Cole swallows. His eyes are locked on hers, clear as glass. She can see her slow, sensual smirk reflected in his pupils. She watches her own reflection tip her head to the side, watches her hand move to hold the berries and greenery over her neck. 

He doesn’t hesitate. He leans down and presses a much firmer kiss to the sensitive skin of her throat. He lingers, tasting the salt of her skin with his tongue. One of his arms hooks around her waist and draws her close. 

Suddenly, she doesn’t give a fuck about decorating. 

“Cole-” she gasps, “Cole, sweetheart. Let’s go to bed.” 

The answer, breathed against her skin, makes her break out in gooseflesh. “ _Yes_.” 

He lets her go and she _almost_ stumbles. She regains her equilibrium and cockiness at the same time, grabbing Cole’s hand and dragging him with her. The sweet, dazed happiness on his face matches the skipping beat of her heart. 

The back of her thighs hit their bed and she immediately grabs the tight t-shirt she wears and rips it over her head. Cole stops her gently, fingers wrapping around her wrists before she can reach for her bra. 

“Can I?” he asks just as he presses his forehead to hers. 

Her lips twitch. “I suppose you can unwrap me.” 

Cole’s hands slide up her arms to her shoulders, but instead of dealing with the bra they smooth over her back and down to her waist, pulling her up again towards his insistent mouth. 

She wraps her arms around his neck and sways on her tiptoes, greedily taking the sweet kiss and turning it only the smallest bit filthy with too much tongue and a gentle nip. He doesn’t stop exploring her mouth, even as he tips her backwards. Her heart flutters, but not with fear.

Cole, after all, would never drop her.

Instead, anticipation pumps white hot through her veins while he settles her onto their comforter and kneels above her. She arcs into his touch when his palms find the clasp of her bra. In a second, it’s undone and he’s sliding it from her body. 

All without breaking the delirious ecstasy of their kiss. 

Cole has gotten good at this. _Very_ good.

He discards the bra and smooths his fingers up her abdomen until he gently cups the heavy globes of her breasts. His reverent touch trails over the delicate flesh. Nipples pebble beneath his thumbs and he teases them to stiff points. 

She breaks the kiss on a hiss as sparks fly to her stomach. Her head falls back and she digs her heels into the mattress to roll against the hard, lean planes of Cole’s body. Although he’s relinquished her lips, his own trail down her jaw. She feels him press light kisses to the freckles on her shoulders. Then his tongue licks the length of her collarbone. 

“Cole-” she whines. 

His warm breath against her breast makes her shudder. “I know.” 

Then his warm lips close over her nipple and the bright pulse of desire inside her doubles. She gasps, twisting her fingers gently through his hair while he swirls his tongue. 

Cole has a way of knowing what she wants, what she likes, what she _needs_ better than Bea herself does.

Which means by the time he releases one sensitive point to focus on the other, she’s already panting. He presses another kiss on her sternum and casts a small, secretive smile up at her before his lips latch onto her other breast with the same gusto. She’s shuddering and bucking beneath him, desire licking at her veins. Tiny noises fall from her lips involuntarily. These aren’t the staged moans for her chosen clients, but the secret little sounds she can’t hide. 

She wouldn’t want to, though. Not with Cole. 

His knuckles brush down her ribs just as he shifts, nose tracing the curve of her breasts. His scalding kisses trail the slope of her abdomen. Fingers hook in her skirt and tug it down gently, then slide back up her thighs. Just as he reaches the waistband of her silk underwear, he veers off to press pointed kisses against the stretch marks she hates on her wide hips. 

She smiles. She can’t help it. 

She’s unprepared for the feather light touch of his fingers as he closes them around her wrist. She’s still gripping the mistletoe for dear life, crinkling the plastic leaves in one hand. Cole guides her wrist until the mistletoe dangles over her core, covered by the thin scrap of fabric, and then lets go. 

The look he shoots her from beneath his pale lashes actually steals the breath from her lungs. She inhales quickly, trying to contain the sudden rush of arousal before she chokes out her words. “Sweetheart you don’t have to. I know you haven’t-” 

“I want to try,” Cole insists, sliding his fingers beneath her underwear and easing them down. They’re only halfway down her thighs before he pauses to drop a kiss just below her pubic bone. 

She immediately exhales the breath she’d been holding in a throaty gasp. From between her thighs, Cole looks _delighted_.

He’s also got far too many clothes on, and she’s naked as she usually is on stage. She almost demands an equal showing of skin, but there’s something about being vulnerable beneath his caring gaze that’s unbearable arousing. It’s no surprise that when his fingers slip down her folds he finds the damning evidence of what he does to her. 

He pulls his fingers away and stares at them for a second before bringing them to his lips. His tongue darts out to taste her, his expression intrigued. She waits, breathless, until his lips close around them and suck. 

She moans. She _actually_ moans. Fuck, how is it so hot to watch him explore this side of himself? To know _she’s_ the one worthy of exploring _with_? 

Before she can examine the flash of arousal too closely, Cole lowers his face to the apex of her thighs. His tongue slips out and licks a long, leisurely stripe up her folds. She chokes on another moan, dropping the mistletoe to dig her fingers into the sheets. 

Cole probably doesn’t _mean_ to tease her. _Probably_. It’s still maddening that his slow, exploring licks and kisses do everything to build up the inferno in her core and do _nothing_ to quench it. His arms curl around her thighs, spreading them wide open, and she’s barely able to even wriggle in his grip. 

He’s good at this. Either he’s a natural or he’s plucking things right from her head like he does sometimes. His tongue splits her, just the way she likes, and swirls to tease her sensitive flesh until she’s desperate for relief. Just when she thinks she’s either going to start begging or worse, start _screaming_ , his tongue finds the aching bud of her clit. 

It’s not quite a scream, but her delighted cry echoes off the ceiling and one hand rushes to anchor herself to Cole, finding his pale blonde hair and twining her small fingers in it. She hears Cole hum to himself like he’s considering something, but before she can make herself look, his tongue circles her clit. 

She does scream then, but Cole doesn’t stop and she doesn’t want him to. His tongue darts and strokes, teasing her with light touches interspersed with more pressure, dragging her closer and closer to the edge. She’s moaning almost constantly, obscenities and Cole’s name mixed with prayers to her ancestors that would make Ria roll her damn eyes. 

Cole pulls away, breath hot against her singing skin. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.” 

“ _Cole_. Cole, please-” she sobs. She’s almost incoherent and would promise _anything_ to be pushed over the edge. 

But with Cole she doesn’t have to. 

He takes her throbbing clit between his lips and applies the _perfect_ amount of pressure. The knot inside her bursts into a whirlwind of color and sound, everything falling away as she fights against Cole’s grip, rolling her hips with wanton abandon to ride out of the cresting waves dragging her under. 

When she finally falls back against the mattress, she’s boneless and the _best_ kind of exhausted. Her throat is hoarse and Cole’s hair beneath her fingertips is a soothing, soft reminder of the man who loves her more than anyone else ever has. 

The one person in the world who knows all of her. And loves her anyway. 

“You liked it.” He sounds relieved and more than a little thrilled. 

She giggles, beckoning him up her body. He comes instantly, curling around her and pressing her to the soft fabric of his t-shirt. She buries her face into his chest and inhales the scent of him, fresh pine and soap. 

“Do you want to-” she begins, but he doesn’t let her finish. 

“No. You’re sensitive after.” It’s a statement of fact, with no judgement behind it. Still, guilt churns in her stomach. 

“I can give you a-” 

He shushes her softly and presses a kiss to her curls, tightening his hold on her body. “You’re happy. And I’m happy like this.” 

The absolute sincerity behind his words kills her, because she _knows_ it’s true. Cole wants nothing from her except to love her, which he does. _Spectacularly._

It’s humbling. And awe-inspiring. And she doesn’t know what she ever did to deserve it, but she would light the world on fire before she let _anyone_ take him away from her. 

“Alright sweetheart,” she murmurs, nuzzling into his chest and closing her eyes, “but next time, you’re under the mistletoe.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays from Pornzammar, which can be found at [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/)


End file.
